I've spent the vast majority of this weekend sick. After Heidi got rather violently ill on Wednesday night (documented in glorious Technicolor here), I figured that I was pretty much a goner. But I have managed to avoid what appeared to be certain infection in the past, so I thought perhaps I'd get lucky again and somehow dodge the bullet. I even floated the theory that perhaps you needed two X chromosomes to get it, based on the fact that Anna had had pretty much the same thing a week prior.
No such luck. I woke up Friday morning not quite feeling right, but chalked it up to a bad night's sleep. Heidi warned me that was how it started. She said that if I couldn't shake the tired off, I needed to come home. I didn't. I pushed through the day and honestly, I didn't really feel all that bad for most of the day. We even went out to Perkins on Friday night and had I been really sick, that wouldn't have even sounded good. But even as we pulled into the driveway for the evening, I knew that I had begun the steady decline that would pretty much come to define the weekend.
Fortunately, my sickness never approached the horrific lows that Heidi's did and for that I am truly thankful. There was a tense moment at 2AM on Saturday morning that had me hugging the toilet bowl (and momentarily forgetting where I was) but it never actually came to actual puking. Being sick is never fun and the first 12 hours are always the worst. Those 12 hours are always followed by the sliver of time in which you feel so much better than you did you can hardly believe it. Unfortunately, that time is followed by 48 hours of "would-you-just-hurry-up-and-get-well-already." That's the time period I'm in right now.
I'll be going to work tomorrow, no doubt about it. My energy level is back up to about 90% of usual and there's no real reason to miss. Yeah, I'm ticked I got sick on a weekend - who wants to get sick on a weekend? - but rather than dwell on the negative, I'm going to try to put a positive spin on it. This weekend saw me spending more time than usual on the couch in front of the TV. I blew through 5 episodes of The X-Files (including "Bad Blood" - man, this season is just about the best yet) and we watched more Simpsons episodes than you can possibly imagine. I also spontaneously napped several times yesterday for a combined total of several hours which was pretty much what my body needed.
The funny thing is that I think my body was in need of this kind of a weekend anyway, sick or not. We had grand plans for this weekend - plans that included shipping Anna off to Camp Grandma while we got together with Jeff and Caryle. The plans with Jeff and Caryle fell apart first and then an unexpected trip to the hospital for Heidi's grandfather cancelled Camp Grandma. And even if these cancellations had not occurred, the combination of my sickness and yet another snowstorm would have vetoed the entire weekend. In the end, I'm glad I stayed home. Not that I wouldn't have loved to have done all those things, but I think that in being sick, I finally gave myself permission to do that which I like to do the least - stop and take care of myself.
The only thing worse than being sick on a weekend is not taking anything away from it. And I did. So you see, being sick isn't all bad. Just mostly. (they mostly come at night...mostly.)